as a sense of discrimination; a man in the Presidency must learn how to part with. his best friends. It is the severest test of true greatness and likewise the most disagreeable one. Whatever may have been the political or other expediencies that governed the original selection of his cabinet officers, Mr. Wilson's hands are now untied. His only obligation is to the nation and its posterity.

Mr. Wilson's first term must have taught him much about his task that should enable him to direct his own improvement. At the outset every man is an amateur in the Presidency; he must feel his way into it. The neophyte days of Mr. Wilson, his gradual transition from the empiricism of a novice to the steadiness of a sure-footed administrator, are interesting in retrospect. Many men are born executives; others become so in the sudden circumstances of great responsibility. Mr. Wilson has had many opportunities for self-instruction in the last two years.

Take one day last August as an example of what the President must sometimes do to meet the demands of his office. It was an extraordinary day, but it will illustrate the scope of Presidential duty and obligation.

Mr. Wilson rose early, breakfasted with his family in the state dining-room, glanced at the head-lines in the morning newspapers, and in a few minutes was in his study on the second floor of the White House, the historic room where Lincoln held his famous cabinet meetings long before the days of the new executive offices. Mr. Wilson was attended only by Charles Swem, his stenographer, one of the fastest shorthand men in the world. He had brought the mail from the executive offices, where a staff of clerks had sifted the letters and telegrams and collected the most urgent ones. The President read them all hastily, put aside some for a second reading, and answered others promptly. He dictated for half an hour or more. He rarely has to change or revise a dictated letter, for he has the rare faculty of being able to say at once ex

actly what he wishes to say. His style flows on as easily in his dictated letters as in his books or speeches. This capacity for ready expression has been of inestimable help, as it would be to an executive in any business, public or private.

His dictation finished, the President hurried from the White House proper to the executive offices, passing through a latticed corridor, screened from public view and of course constantly guarded. As a rule his first engagement is at ten o'clock, but this day it was at half-past nine. Several congressmen and senators wished to see the President, and each said he wished only two or three minutes, and the secretaries at the White House had grouped the calls in that first half-hour. One by one Patrick McKenna, usher for many Presidents, showed them the way to the President's desk.

With hurried callers like these Mr. Wilson does not sit down. In their eloquence they might forget all about the clock. Some the President may keep longer. He wishes, perhaps, to know more about their errands. With others he finds it necessary to arrive at a decision on the spot. There is no time for procrastination. Persons who come to see the President, and who get an audience, usually have something of importance to say. Yet everything is important. The Presi dent is leader of his party as well as the nation's executive. He must perhaps determine a point of political strategy in a doubtful State. A congressman wishes somebody pardoned. The President promises to send for the papers in the case and read them. A senator has an invitation to present. If the President goes West, the people of the senator's State wish Mr. Wilson to stop at three cities therein. Mr. Wilson replies that he will keep it in mind; he has much to keep in mind. He makes a memorandum of the call, or the senator leaves a copy of the invitation.

Several senators then came to consult the President on legislative matters, and he examined the bill they brought. What should the committee do? What was the administration's desire? And Mr. Wil

in the Allied countries, the possibilities of peace, the new offensive of the Allies, a great deal about the attitude of the Allied governments toward the United States, and the gossip of diplomatic circles in Europe-what

the diplomats of Europe really think about the war in contradistinction to what they publicly say. There was no other time on the calendar for these ambassadors, so Mr. Wilson combined work and luncheon.

Immediately afterward the Japanese ambassador was due to call. He was in uniform, for he came to say formal good-by, and Mr. Wilson, attended by a military aide, received him. The formalities were over in a few minutes, and the President turned to his next callers. They were Vance McCormick, chairman of the Democratic national committee, and Henry Morgenthau, chairman.

of the finance committee of the campaign and an active political

manager; for while Mr. Wilson was busy with public business, he could not forget the campaign. His opponent was stumping the country; the Republi

Finally he took refuge from all this congestion of business in a motor-ride with Mrs. Wilson. There was no time for golf that day, but only for a cooling ride in Rock Creek Park; for it was midsum

cans, not burdened by legislative responsibilities, were working day and night in the campaign. Mr. Wilson was consulted about his speech of acceptance and the general plan of campaign at Shadow Lawn. He was with his political aides for nearly an hour; it was his first conference in weeks.

mer, which means an average of eighty degrees Fahrenheit.

On the President's return, the secretary of state was waiting with a mass of cablegrams and diplomatic notes received from other governments. He made a brief comprehensive explanation of new developments, and together the President and he

determined the policy of the Government. There is not always time to wait for a regular cabinet meeting, and Mr. Wilson has avoided special meetings because of the exaggerated importance that might be given to the subject under discussion. Mr. Lansing brings to the President's attention only a few of the matters in his department-the matters of vital importance. He doubtless had brought noxious news from Mexico, disturbing reports about the German submarine raids, their slowly extending circle of operations, which might bring into question the validity of Germany's pledges. Requests for facts were despatched to a dozen consuls and embassies and legations which might be in a position to get news from surviv

ors.

Doubtless the secretary spoke also of the disquieting situation in the far East, the financial straits of China, and a number of other questions which in normal times would get hours of consideration, but now must be crowded in among matters of greater concern nearer home.

After the secretary of state had gone, the President received Franklin K. Lane, the secretary of the interior, whom he had sent for to discuss the railroad situation. Mr. Lane is the all-around man in the cabinet, the general-utility player. He has served on the Interstate Commerce Commission, and was therefore of much help in the railroad controversy. He knows about Mexico, railroad finance, conservation, politics, and a multitude of other problems. He was summoned specially to go over the message which the President had prepared to read to Congress on the railroad situation or to examine the proposals left by the railroad executives earlier in the day, for in a few minutes the President was to receive the Brotherhood chiefs.

It was now after sunset and nearly dinner-time, and still the day was not ended for the President. It was an interminable procession of nerve-racking problems and duties. All day the oral tasks had absorbed Mr. Wilson's attention; now at night, after dinner, he repaired again to his study, there in solitary quiet to pore

over a mass of memoranda, pardon cases, confidential reports from abroad, important letters from prominent men in this country and in Europe, communications from various departments of the Government, and reams of suggestions or questions relating to the conduct of the political campaign. Mr. Wilson likes to have things in writing, and almost all of the business of the Wilson administration is conducted in that way. The cabinet has learned to submit virtually everything in writing. Mr. Wilson has no stenographer with him at night. He keeps a little type-writer beside him, and types a brief comment or reply to each of these long communications.

Even the President's private secretary, when anxious to lay before him a matter of importance, draws up a memorandum or brief, giving the pros and cons of the subject. He could just as well walk a few steps to the White House from the executive offices or even consult the President when he is in his office, but ever since he was governor of New Jersey Mr. Wilson has indicated that he prefers to have important questions placed before him on paper, so that they may be examined at his leisure, though the very word is a misnomer. No mind could retain all that is said to the President in a single day; so it happens that Mr. Wilson's desk is always piled high with papers; it is constant battle against a constantly ascending pile. Part of the mountain is made up of official papers and commissions that merely require the President's signature, small bills and resolutions that have passed Congress. Of the thousands upon thousands of commissions for army and navy officers, appointments to West Point and Annapolis, commissions for postmasters and federal office-holders without number, all must bear the signature of the President. Writing one's name a hundred times is a monotonous undertaking, but the President must do it literally thousands of times a week. For example, requests for autographed photographs are eternal, and are not to be denied, for it is one of the easiest ways to dispense Presidential favor.